


A Sign for Me to Go By

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Resident Evil (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Fix-It, Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Pre-Slash, Protectiveness, Romance, Temporary Amnesia, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-28 20:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Rain had always been dangerous, but she had become the type of dangerous Alice could trust, the type that had her back no matter what even if she couldn’t quite remember the reasons why.And now Rain was dangerousforher, to protect her.





	A Sign for Me to Go By

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hecate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate/gifts).

> Written for Shipoween 2019 for Hecate (slippery_fish), following their prompt of: Original!Rain survives but she ends up as some kind of hybrid that isn't always in control of herself but always wants to protect Alice.
> 
> **Soundtrack:** Title and lyrics are from In Flames’ ‘Call My Name.’

_~Why don’t you call my name?_

_Let it bounce between the walls, through the halls of time_

_A sign for me to go by_

_So find me the wormhole so that I can be by your side~_

* * *

Alice fought to temper her turmoil, counting each inhale and exhale, determined to keep her breathing steady when she was feeling anything  _but _ balanced and in control. It wasn’t about her; it was how she needed to give Rain the time she needed to clear her head and come back to  _some _ semblance of self-awareness, some form of recognition…

Even just an inkling of how Alice remembered her.

Sometimes, though mainly during the earliest days, it would take  _hours _ before Rain would blink and respond to Alice as if she’d hadn’t been giving her a silent treatment she neither initiated nor most likely acknowledged. And sometimes it would be mere seconds for Rain’s hand to grasp her wrist, quirking the tiniest of smiles at Alice and yet so sure and so smug, so  _Rain _ while she said something smart and sharp and witty as if no dead time had passed between them. 

These were the moments Alice realized that Rain was still in there, somewhere, the pre-cure Rain that Alice had latched onto so fiercely from at first necessity and then instinct and then maybe even both at the end that hadn’t quite been  _their_ end. 

Even so, it had been some  _shape_ of an end; too final to be the close of a chapter, really. 

The cure for the deadly, fast-acting T-virus had worked in one sense: it allowed Rain to retain a fraction of her humanity and with it, bits and pieces of awareness and even fewer fragments of memories. She was more violent than she had been before, violence without experience and careful calculation and maybe it was just confusion, but there was a fire of desperation in her eyes that jolted Alice out of every one of her senseless reveries.

From that very first moment Rain had opened her brand new eyes, gaze veering wildly before latching onto Alice and never quite looking away, peeling Alice open with an intensity more alarming than comforting, Rain had never stopped following her. Her instincts were sharper, strengths heightened, determination honed to such an acute point that Alice doubted she could discreetly nick her finger without Rain thereafter looming over her, hell-bent on crushing whatever had done it into oblivion.

From that first moment Rain had opened her eyes, she had never stopped killing for Alice. There was no distinction in her friend’s eyes between threat and non-threat; no, the only distinction was threat to Alice and  _Alice_ . And Alice, it seemed, was her only motivation and her only purpose. 

It had made Alice’s job a great deal harder trying to get Raccoon City’s few remaining survivors out of the city alive, but after a time Rain seemed to trust Alice’s judgment just as well as her own, blind and absolute, and even trusted in Alice’s ability to protect herself.

Just as fiercely as Alice was fighting for a city that could not be salvaged, for a world that could not be saved, for the few that just  _might_ make it through Umbrella’s all-encompassing devastation, Rain was fighting her own battle because she could do nothing less. 

Alice wouldn’t let her. Alice wouldn’t lose her  _again. _

That didn’t mean her tired, bloody fingers didn’t occasionally lose their precarious hold on the conviction that Rain would never slip away completely to become yet another threat.

That didn’t mean the fear didn’t claw at her throat that Alice would never be able to see Rain as a threat, even if her very life depended on it.

How much could she lose, how much could Umbrella take away from her before she lost her own humanity and became like Rain: unresponsive and out of control?

Alice missed her more than just an ache in her bones, a constant itch that burrowed deep and stubbornly refused to abate, much like Rain had refused to leave her be when they’d first run into each other; and how Alice had adamantly done the same after Rain had been bit, telling all occurrences of hopelessness and rationality to fuck off; exactly like Rain wouldn’t let her out of her sight since they’d fought their way out of Raccoon City  _together_ . 

But could she really  _miss _ Rain when she was right here? When she wasn’t trying to eat her or attack her or shoot her? 

Now they were crouched under a hastily propped up awning, taking shelter from the storm, wary but not itching with paranoia given Rain’s very recent slaughtering of half the town. As if it were all done in Alice’s honor.

There were certain things that would set Rain off, not just physical threats to Alice but even words that would spur memories, a simple touch or even an unexpected brush against unprotected skin which would send Rain to her like gasoline to fire.

Rain was dangerous. She had always been dangerous, that is, until Alice had gotten to know her, to take that small peek underneath her prickly, iron-clad exterior to find loyalty and bravery, qualities she could aspire to, traits she could trust and depend upon. That was when Rain had become the type of dangerous she could trust, the type that had her back no matter what even if she couldn’t quite remember the reasons why.

And now Rain was dangerous  _for _ her, to protect her. 

Whenever Alice had to make a decision to run or fight, to stand up or sit this one battle out among the many,  _many_ others pulled to her wavering beacon, she always thought of Rain, who kept going no matter what life or the T-virus or the cure that  _should _ have worked, that  _should _ have brought her back, threw at her, who just kept going…

Could Alice do any less,  _be _ any less? 

Rain was still going even though she didn’t know  _why_ , no longer had the mental capacity to reason with that unshakable decision. Like the infected she had merely  _one _ goal for survival: protect Alice, no matter the cost. And Alice would protect her even if she was no longer entirely human, even if the supposed cure paired with the T-virus had turned Rain into an entirely new machine: tough and determined and virtually indestructible. 

Alice her only reason for survival.

Alice her only  _weakness_ . 

“Hey…, Alice?”

She knew that whatever she would say would bring her friend out of the fog clouding her mind, making it near impossible for Rain to have anything but the shortest term memory. She knew her words would give her a hand to hold onto until Rain was strong and sure enough to reach out for  _actual _ physical contact. She knew that whatever she would say would urge her to press closer even though she had no confidence that Rain could feel her warmth or her affection or her  _love_ . 

“Here.”

There was a long beat, loud enough to echo Alice’s traitorously thumping heart, loud enough to drown out the storm. It wasn’t that she was scared of Rain, except maybe of losing her, but she was always scared of how Rain would see her, of how unpredictable she could be, of how she knew Alice and yet didn’t really know her anymore.

“I can’t…,” Rain crumpled in on herself, hands coming up to shield her head as if some unseen force were intent on splitting it open. Alice’s ball of guilt weighted down her stomach further, sickening her with the familiar certainty that she couldn’t really help Rain or ease her pain. All she could do was wait for a sign, a sign she was sure would elude her. “I can’t make sense of anything,” Rain concluded, her voice strained and frustrated and drying out Alice’s throat just hearing it. “But I know who you are. I know… I know that you’ve always been here, even…  _before_ .”

It was spoken like a question, though Alice had no doubt that Rain believed her words. It was the only reason why she wasn’t lashing out at Alice now like she would attack everyone and everything else. It was the only reason why they were still  _here_ , less than whole but never too far from reconstruction. 

Alice placed a hand on her shoulder after sensing a softening in Rain’s features, a minute droop of her shoulders as if a weight had been lifted, a glimmer in her eye that suggested curiosity and relief and offered just the right amount of daring. She was rewarded with Rain shifting into her touch, as if seeking answers from Alice that she would forever be seeking to provide.

_We’re in this together. _

_If I didn’t have Rain with me… _ It wasn’t a sentence she ever intended to finish. 

“And I always will be,” Alice answered, her thumb carving unintelligible, feather-light markings into the underside of Rain’s wrist, wishing wholeheartedly that she could press kisses into the chilled skin there instead. She knew that this answer, despite being the only one she could give voice to, was the only one Rain needed at this moment in time.

**FIN**


End file.
